


The Last Refrain

by Wintermoth



Series: Tales From Camp Dragonhead [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: CHOCOBO SHENANIGANS, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Papa Edmont meets his son's sweetheart, Romance ...if you squint, WoL will fight all of Ishgard for Haurchefant try and s t o p h e r, a lot happens, also drunk Estinien happens, and Haurchefant struggles with doing the Right Thing, gdi Alphinaud, lots of worldbuilding to be found within, we're moving bEYOND Dragonhead now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintermoth/pseuds/Wintermoth
Summary: In the twilight of the Dragonsong War she came, a weary traveler whose arrival would set in motion great change...though none knew then how great.(Ft. Six small one-shots which occur during the first few weeks of Heavensward.)





	1. What's In A Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Y’know, I always wondered…why some people would seem to be insulting you without actually insulting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together*
> 
> So I decided to put these six small segments separate from the whopper of a fic that's coming next since none of them were long enough to stand alone but were necessary and would have bogged down the beginning of the next. 
> 
> Just a small FYI: In the FR version of the game, Haurchefant's title is Silver Blade (in German and JP it's Silver Sword) which tbh I like more than Silver Fuller? How many of you knew that a fuller was part of a sword? Be honest now. ( _just like how many of you knew what the fuck LARBOARD mEANT until last week fuck you NA team_ )
> 
>  
> 
> Please read the bottom as well ;)

My face scrunched like I had eaten something sour as I mulled over the required sounds and the decisions which had led me to this point.

“Haurchefant,” the elezen lord repeated for the seventh—eighth?—time with an amused smile on his face.

I glanced down at his name written in the Eorzean script on a small piece of parchment and tried, without success, to picture it written in my own.

“Hor—”

“No, no, no you don’t say the ‘H’.”

My shoulders sagged in defeat. “Then why is it _there_?” I complained.

Bestowed with the power to speak and understand any language in the world and I couldn’t even say his bloody name right. To be fair, I was terrible with names in general and normally got away with it by being a quiet individual. I could look at a face I had seen but once and mark them friend or foe in an instant. Their name, however…. Well. Let’s just say it had taken me a week to learn all the Archon’s names and I still wasn’t sure I could say Alphinaud’s correctly, nor did the boy seem to be the sort to humor me as Haurchefant was doing now.

Elezen had such bizarre names in Eorzea and they almost never sounded like how they looked written out. Haurchefant’s name, for example. Which was what prompted me to ask him because, for some gods unknown reason, this man actually liked me as a person. Wanted to be my friend, even. Didn’t see me as someone to be used. And friends were expected to at least be able to say each other’s _names_ correctly.

“You know,” Haurchefant replied after a moment, “I’m not quite sure. Though I have a faint recollection of complaining something similar in my youth when I was learning my letters.”

I laughed weakly and tried again. “Or-shè…”

He pursed his lips for a moment. “Not so much stress on the ‘e’, it’s barely there.”

I tried again, and again, and a third time, but only managed to produce a slight variation of the exact sound each time. After the fourth failure, I slumped forward and let me head thump against the desk. “I’m a disgrace.”

Haurchefant chuckled, completely unbothered by me incompetence. “Come now, my dear, I did not expect you to perfect it immediately and you should not, either. Tis an Ishgardian name and requires an Ishgardian accent and yours is decidedly…”

I peeked one eye up at him.

“Not Ishgardian,” he finished.

“No kidding.” I heaved a sigh. “This isn’t fair.”

He laughed again. “Now come. I am content to settle with ‘good enough’ for the time being but you won’t get any closer if you don’t keep trying. Up you get now and try again.”

“Can I just call you Fawn?”

His lips twitched upwards. “In Eorzean Common, that means ‘baby deer’.”

“Oh, I know.”

Laughing once more, Haurchefant shook his head. “Try again.”

I sighed once again but sat up obediently. “Haurchefant.”

He smiled. “Better. Do not put _quite_ so much emphasis on the ‘n’.”

“Faw.”

“Perhaps a touch more.”

“Okay.” Me brow furrowed in concentration. I could do this; stupid fake letters and stupid conflicting accents be damned. “Or…shih…fawn…?” I tried but wilted almost immediately. No, no, I still wasn’t getting it—

Haurchefant, however, beamed. “Splendid! Well done!”

I blinked. “What, really?”

“Of course!”

“But it still sounds _wrong_ …”

“As I said, my dear, I do not expect you to perfect it at once. Tis your accent, I’m afraid, but you can hardly be faulted for that. You are closer now than you were five minutes ago and tomorrow you will be better.” His smile turned warm, comforting, and for a moment, I felt better about the whole thing. Then a hint of mischief began to dance in those eyes of his (pale blue, similar in color to his hair, as a matter of fact, how had I never noticed?) and he leaned forward, folding his arms on his desk. “But of course, the best way to perfect a task is to practice. So, it seems you have no choice but to return to Dragonhead for regular visits.”

I mirrored him, folding my arms on the desk in front of me. “Oh, do I?”

“Quite so.”

I hummed, as if thinking it over, and looked him up and down once. “I suppose I’ll have to, especially if I’m going to learn your surname properly.”

His smile faltered for a split second and I almost missed it. Almost. He recovered quickly and inclined his head. “Well, if you are compelled to address or refer to me by my full name at any point, it is Haurchefant Greystone. I believe that should be simple enough.”

“Thank the gods for that.”

* * *

 I ran my fingers through the soft ebony down of my new chocobo.

The words of the Archbishop still rang in my ears. I could see why someone like him had ascended to the highest seat in Ishgard, he had a commanding yet charismatic presence which surely would have given him the ability to soothe his people whilst maintaining command. Shame that he was a conniving bastard who’d been consorting with Ascians in hopes to strike back against them. No wonder he’d allowed me and mine in without objection, no wonder he’d forced that Ser Zephirin fellow to apologize (though that, at least, had seemed genuine). He _needed_ me, the Warrior of Light, to combat the looming Ascian threat.

Typical.

Everywhere I go, there’s always something, always some _one_ who wants to use me.

Everywhere except…

The black chocobo chirps at me in a manner I know to be affectionate. It must know, somehow, that I am to be its new owner, the same way Bobby did when he was given to me. Such wonderful creatures.

…But of all the things Haurchefant could have given me…he went with a _chocobo_. I already had one, and a fine one at that, so why give me another? A _war_ chocobo, no less! That ridiculous…confusing man. Not a week had passed since he had broken my heart and yet there he was, giving me such a gift that one might think we were courting. The thought made me hand pause and my eyes slipped shut. If only.

The black chocobo chirped softly, looking down at me with its big black eyes. Trained by Haurchefant himself, the stable hand had informed me when she’d come to visit. I smiled and resumed my petting.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” I told it honestly. “I never thought I’d be in the position of owning my own horse-bird, never mind two. I’m not a knight, though, so it’s not going to be like what you were expecting, I’m sure.”

The chocobo cocked its head and I wondered if it could even understand me. It had taken a while for Bobby and me to really connect since he’d been raised and trained around Eorzean Common and Gridanian. But for all I knew, this chocobo had only ever heard Ishgardian. How strange I must’ve sounded in comparison since I doubted the Echo worked on animals.

“Nay, it shall be far grander.”

I nearly plastered myself to the ceiling at the unexpected voice. Whirling around, I found myself face to face with Haurchefant himself, just outside the stall. He was smiling that same old smile he always reserved for me, warm and fond, that had once made me feel special, _cared for_ , and now made my insides twist unpleasantly because I knew it was true. Just as I knew it would amount to nothing. We were supposed to have spent time apart now that I was living in Ishgard, but events in the Sea of Clouds had forced us together once more. I would have thought he’d returned to Camp Dragonhead now that the farce of a trial had concluded.   

The chocobo chirped in delight at the sight of him.

“What?” I managed to ask, dumbly, after staring for a few moments.

“She will be going on adventures with you, will she not?” Haurchefant asked. “I daresay it will be far more exciting than a life of a war steed.”

“She?” I repeated.

Haurchefant hummed in agreement and pulled the door open. “Her name is Rydia,” he explained, shutting the door behind him. He pulled a krakka root from a small satchel hanging from his shoulder and held it out to the chocobo. She chirped again and left my side to accept the treat. Haurchefant greeted her with affectionate scratches to her cheeks. “And she was the last of many chocobos that I trained.” He glances at my confused expression and smiled. “Despite my ambitions of knighthood, the countess insisted I train to be a chocobo handler. House Fortemps is known for its prestige when it comes to breeding and training chocobos, and our methods are utilized even in Gridania.”

My brow furrowed in consternation. A week ago, I would’ve taken his statement at face value…but now I knew. I knew who he was. I knew who and _what_ the Countess de Fortemps had been. And I could understand what an insult it must have been to be ordered to work in the stables when he probably spoke of nothing but wanting to be a knight.

“I found I rather liked training the chocobos.” Haurchefant went on, unaware of the indignation bubbling within me. His eyes were all for Rydia. “They are not wont to judge, so long as one provides a steady supply of adequate roots and greens. Of course, I received my knighthood when I was seventeen and my work in the stables ended. But after I received my post at Dragonhead, I took up training chocobos once more. Rydia was the last chocobo I trained before I was promoted to commander.”

Rydia kwehed, as if in agreement.

“Then why is she here?” I asked.

Haurchefant’s expression tightened. “There were those who…strongly objected to my promotion amongst the other houses and poor Rydia was caught in the crossfire. No sooner had she been assigned to the garrison at Falcon’s Nest than she was sent back to the city on claims she was too weak for labor and too cowardly for battle. Lies, of course, but such accusations are not so easily dismissed. Now, at last, she has a rider, one who will not allow foolish prejudices to blind her to Rydia’s worth.”

“Was it because you’re a…” I trailed off, unsure how to word it, exactly, and Haurchefant went completely, utterly still. I don’t even think he was breathing. “…Greystone?”

Hauchefant’s eyes closed for a moment then opened and settled on me. “You heard.”

I nodded. “Your brothers weren’t exactly…secretive about it.”

“No, but they have no reason to be. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone except me.”

He didn’t respond. He hadn’t wanted me to know, I realized. It must have been such a relief to have someone in his life who didn’t know and couldn’t judge him for it. No wonder he’d never said anything. Inhaling through my nose— _oh ugh, chocobo smell_ —I took a step towards him, then another, gauging his reaction, but he just continued to watch me.

“Y’know, I always wondered…why some people would seem to be insulting you without _actually_ insulting you.” I said, my hand coming to settle on Rydia’s flank. “Especially with your name. Actually, I always wondered about that, too, why you were a lord of House Fortemps but went by Greystone. Didn’t seem half as prestigious as something like…Wyrmblood or Silver Blade. But I never worked up the courage to ask anytime I got curious.”

“I was not sure for the longest time if you were merely being polite or were simply ignorant,” Haurchefant confessed with a wry grin. “There were times it seemed as if you knew and others when I knew you could not possibly. Either way, it was refreshing. Of course, I knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it out on your own or someone told you. I am only surprised that it took so long.” He sighed. “But now you know.”

He sounded so resigned that I did not even try to stop myself from reaching for his hand. “Where I come from, children aren’t judged for their parents’ actions like that. Your parents weren’t married when they conceived you, big deal, so long as you turn out alright. And you did, you turned out wonderful. So, what’s there to care about?”

A strange smile had begun to spread across his face as I spoke. I wonder if anyone had ever said anything like that to him before. Here in this city with its strict castes and judgmental nobles, he must’ve grown up feeling second rate, worthless next to his trueborn brothers with their father’s striking features and coloring. It surprised me when I first entered House Fortemps at how…different Haurchefant was from the rest of them, both living and those in the portraits which lined the halls. There were features his brothers shared that were utterly absent from him, and features which he shared with none of them. That silvery hair of his which I’d always found beautiful had no place amongst the predominantly blondes and blacks of his ancestors. If his brothers had not told me his origins themselves, I may yet have learned of them from the portraits alone.

“Nothing your parents did was your fault. Nothing the countess did was your fault, either. You couldn’t help being born, you couldn’t help looking like your mother, either.” I said and he seemed surprised. “What? It’s obvious that you do. She must have been beautiful, too, with this hair.”

“She was,” Haurchefant replied.  
  
“Yeah, see? If people have a problem with you for anything other than your deeds, then that’s on them, not you. To judge or condemn someone for the actions of their parents is stupid. And Halone help the next son of a bitch who speaks poorly of you within my hearing,” I added fiercely.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Thank you, Rain.”

“Vrochí,” I said, without thinking. He cocked his head in confusion and I looked away quickly, stroking Rydia’s neck.

“What?”

“My name,” I murmured. I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat and said, more surely, “My real name.”

A few seconds past before I was able to bring myself to look up at him to find him staring at me like I was the Fury given form. He must’ve understood the magnitude of what I was giving him. Then his brow furrowed seriously he asked me to repeat my name once more. I did, slowly, letting him hear the way my tongue rolled the _r_ , the way the air passed through my mouth for _chí_.

“Vro…he…” he said once, then again, a bit faster. I beamed at him. So close. He’d have it in no time, long before I could say both of his brother’s names correctly. He repeated it again and I giggled.

“Vrochí, Vrochí, Vrochí,” he said three times fast, none of them quite right, but I laughed, and he grinned, and for just a few, wonderful moments, we were whole again. “Does it have meaning?”

“It’s our word for ‘rain’,” I explained softly, resuming my petting of Rydia’s neck. “I didn’t just pick a random name out of thin air.”

“But it’s lovely! Why change it?”

I shrugged. “Simplicity. I knew no one was going to be able to say my name right and I was hoping for a clean slate, y’know? Even with my accent, having a familiar name would make people less likely to make assumptions about me.”

“I know the feeling well,” he muttered. “Though if it would please you, I shall call you by your true name hereafter.”

I shook my head. “If people learn my real name, they will learn where I come from. My language combined with the alphabet I use—wouldn’t take any scholar worth their salt very long to puzzle it out. Then it’s only a matter of time before the Garleans learn as well or, worse, the Ascians. My home, my family, I can’t do that to them. Please, you must keep it a secret.” I stared up at him beseechingly and he placed his hand over mine, stilling it.

“You have my word,” he promised, “and my gratitude, for revealing to me something so precious.”

Something in his voice stirred memories from the week before and sent my mind back to that damn cliff, with its beautiful view and the Mark of the Lover, taunting me, and with that, reality set in once more. Sighing, I ducked my head and squeezed my eyes shut. It was so easy to just…forget with him. Forget who I was, what had to be, and what could not be. And we, _us_ , were that last category, no matter how we wished otherwise.

“Thank you for the chocobo. I’ll take good care of her and make sure she and Bobby get along.” I didn’t look at him as I spoke, unable to watch his expression fall as I knew it would when he realized what we had allowed to happen.

Haurchefant was quiet for a long time and I refused to look at him, focusing instead on the beautiful black chocobo who was basking in the attention, completely unaware of our torments.

“Alphinaud and Tataru await you at the mansion and I return to Dragonhead anon,” he finally murmured, and I pretended not to notice the slight rasp to his voice. “If the gods are favorable, it will be some time before we see each other again, for it will mean all is well. I have the utmost faith in you but, pray, keep your wits about you in the coming days, falter not from your convictions, and…know that I will ever be proud of you.”

My eyes slipped shut for a moment at the emotion in his words at the end. “And I you,” I replied, gazing up at him.

We stared at each other for a long moment and then something struck me from behind. I barely had time to utter a sound of surprise before I collided with Haurchefant’s chest. He caught me by the arms with an indignant cry of, “Rydia!”

_“Kweh!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vrochí!
> 
> So, now that I've given you this little bit more about Rain, I have a very important question for all of you. Feel free to answer in the comments or on tumblr (i'm wintermoth there too). **Do you want me to describe Rain?** As of now, I've given you very few physical details about her and let you all imagine her how you see fit. But there is a section in an upcoming chapter where I can give you a few more details based on how I picture her, if people would like me to. So, how about it? Want to know what Rain looks like according to me or keep her vague for your imaginations?


	2. The Father's Overture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he first laid eyes on her, Edmont was a bit underwhelmed by the Warrior of Light.

Count Edmont was a man of many mistakes, many regrets. Indeed, there were entire days of his life he wished he could do over to stop himself from doing or saying something or other, many of which centered around Haurchefant. Edmont couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, things would be different between them if he had only acted differently during the boy’s youth. Perhaps they would be more as father and son instead of lord and knight.

Mireille had never been one of those regrets, even after they had conceived a child together. He had loved her since before he knew what love was, when he was but the Count’s son and she the daughter of the chef, and arranged marriages were but a distant concern. Though perhaps if he had not been such a boneheaded youth and honored his commitment to his wife, Mireille may yet be alive today.

…He saw much of his younger self in Emmanellain sometimes and it worried him.

But not Haurchefant. His middle son was so much like his mother, more than he realized for he had been so young when she passed, and he was all the better for it. He had never been prouder than in the moment he beheld Haurchefant’s knighting, to see the boy that his foolishness had cursed to forever be second best elevated for his courage and mettle. No longer weighted so heavily by the name Greystone but honored with the title ‘Silver Blade’.

The thought always brought a smile to his face. Though Edmont’s hands had been tied in many ways, Haurchefant had made something of himself regardless, and after the Temple Knights refused him for being bastard-born, Edmont had taken a vicious delight in bequeathing Camp Dragonhead to him. As for the disapproval and offense which had followed his decision from many members of the other houses, well, he _reveled_ in that.

Haurchefant rarely came home afterwards and Edmont knew well it was in no small part due to the manor being the source of many painful memories from his youth. Whenever he did return, Edmont endeavored to make ample time for his son, even though he knew it would not be taken advantage of to the fullest. It never served to fully break the ice between them, could not make up for his failures in Haurchefant’s youth, but at least Edmont could say that he tried.

So when Haurchefant sent word that he wished to discuss a matter of grave import in person, Edmont cleared his schedule for the evening. T’was no small favor his son asked of him, granting patronage to the Warrior of Light and her companions, all of whom had been accused of regicide, a foolhardy move even under the best of circumstances. It had pained him to do so but he had had no choice but to deny his son’s request. Yet Haurchefant had been unwilling to accept defeat. His response surprised Edmont. He had not expected his son to be so fervent on the subject, and so he dared to ask why.

And so Haurchefant told him of Rain.

Edmont knew of her, everyone did. Eorzea’s vaunted hero, she who had slain the primal Shiva, countless dragons, thwarted heretics left and right, exposed traitors amongst his son’s ranks, and defended Ishgard with her life upon the Steps of Faith. Haurchefant made note of each of these deeds and then some, of course, but mostly he spoke of her as she was. A woman of courage and intelligence, kindness, selflessness, and full of so much _life._ At some point during it all, Edmont understood.

His son was not merely petitioning on the behalf of an ally or even a friend, but beseeching him to protect his beloved.

In truth, the decision had not been difficult thereafter.

When he first laid eyes on her, Edmont was a bit underwhelmed by the Warrior of Light. He had heard tell that her hair was like dragon fire and her eyes were as cold steel, with which she could simply stare a man into submission. That she radiated power which one could tangibly feel. That her beauty could sway even the most devoted of men and that she left broken hearts in her wake. Of course, Edmont knew well that stories were oft exaggerated and when it came to those surrounding the Warrior of Light, it was hard to know truth from embellishment, yet all accounts indicated that she was nothing short of a force of nature.

Edmont had expected a battle-scarred warrior with fire in her eyes and power in her every step. Haurchefant brought him a young woman with auburn hair wind whipped into disarray and soft gray eyes which took in all around her with awed delight. Her face was pretty though Edmont would not have gone so far as to call her beautiful. Her robe, which was crude and Gridanian in design, was well made and offered protection from the cold but did little to improve her appearance. Rather it gave off the impression that she was but a harmless forest-dweller.

Yet Haurchefant looked at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

And that, Edmont supposed, was that.

In the days which followed, Edmont rarely heard her speak, even in the presence of her friends. Rather she watched and listened, waited and then acted. When she did speak, it was in a strange accent which lilted and rolled oddly across the smooth sounds of Common. He was versed enough in such things to recognize an accent born of another language rather than a dialect, yet he never heard her utter so much as a single word in it.

Once, he overheard Emmanellain speaking to Honoroit rather impolitely about her in Isghardian while the poor lad tried to convince him to stop, please, she’s sitting just there!

Emmanellain laughed. What would a foreigner know of Ishgardian?

Quite a lot, apparently, and Rain told him so, _in perfect Ishgardian_.

Mortified, Emmanellain quickly ran from the room and right into Edmont, who cuffed him on the ear for his insolence and sent him right back in to apologize. Fortunately, Rain did not seem all too bothered by the incident. She’d had her revenge anyway and Emmanellain would not soon forget it.

Edmont found her to be a woman of action, eager to prove herself worthy of his patronage. She accompanied Artoirel to the Western Highlands with nary a protest and returned some few days later having secured victory over some local heretics and the respect of his eldest son. After she left for the Sea of Clouds with Emmanellain, Edmont spoke with Artoirel on the subject. His son declared her to be all that Haurchefant claimed, much to his own surprise.

_“I have yet to determine whether she possesses courage in abundance or an utter lack self-perseveration, but I can say, Father, with the utmost certainty that her actions saved lives.”_

When word came from Cloudtop that Emmanellain had been abducted by the birdmen and Rain had charged off to rescue him, Edmont found himself strangely…at ease. Any other time he may have been worried out of his mind at the news. Sure enough, his faith paid off, and Emmanellain returned with naught but a few blows to his body and ego. And the Warrior of Light, well, she returned nary a scratch on her and every single pocket and ilm of her bags stuffed with bundles of flora from the Sea of Clouds.

It was then that Edmont began to see why Haurchefant had fallen for her.

She was such a curious young woman, as fascinating as she was accomplished, and what she lacked in traditional beauty and social graces she made up for with her skill and ferocity in battle. Edmont hardly knew her and she already had his respect. 

Whether she would be a good match for his son remained to be seen. He was not blind to the looks between them, the smiles when the other wasn’t looking, the smiles when they were—he knew there was something between them already and that, whatever it may be, they were keeping it discreet. It was for the best. Her place in Ishgard was tenuous at best thus far and Haurchefant, well…. It was not a good idea for them to be together, not now at any rate. He was certain that Haurchefant knew this. He was also certain he had never seen his son as happy as he was when he hugged Rain after her victory in the Tribunal. Edmont would sooner face down Nidhogg with naught but his walking stick than take that from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edmont approves.
> 
>  
> 
> I cannot draw for shit but I finally found a dollmaker which got me close to the idea I had for Rain and you can see the result of that [here](https://78.media.tumblr.com/5a7617a741484c762b68adf4fd61a585/tumblr_inline_pforlzgr8y1ryffna_1280.png) if you wish, or you can settle for the details I've given ^-^


	3. The Knight's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was right about then that I realized I was being followed.

People always praised me for my excellent timing. How I always seemed to come along just when they needed help or seemed to know when they needed to talk to me. I would smile, nod, and let them get on with it, because it was far easier than explaining that _I_ didn’t know squat and was just paying attention to the pull of the Echo. Sometimes I would get these little feelings or nudges that would lead me to a person or place of interest.

I was quite used to them by the time I was living in Ishgard, so much so that I could ignore most of them without a guilty conscience. Though sometimes these urges were…special. Stronger. They carried a sense of urgency or import and always, without fail, lead to something which probably would have ended poorly without my intervention. These particular nudges did not happen often but when they did, I was sure to obey.

On the eve of our departure to the west, whilst I roamed the Jeweled Crozier, I felt one such urge. At first, I did not notice any one or thing in particular and, truly, with what awaited me on the morrow, I was very tempted to simply let it be for now. If I failed in my mission, it wouldn’t matter what some sod desperately needed around here, now would it? I carried on with my browsing, expecting the feeling to fade as I moved away from the source.

Yet it persisted. It persisted from one end of the market to the other and halfway back again, and it was right about then that I realized I was being followed. Wonderful. Not only did someone desperately need help, they knew they needed _me_ specifically, and had picked me out of the crowd.

The Count had spared no expense on our part and within a day of arriving, Tataru and I had found ourselves presented with fine dresses fit for nobility (though I suspected Tataru’s had been originally intended for young ladies of perhaps three or four summers) and Alphinaud with suits not unlike those worn by Artoirel and Emmanellain. In my deep red gown, lined with wool and trimmed with furs, and my hair combed neatly, I looked no different to any other lady of privilege around me. Which also meant that my pursuer knew my face. I could count on both hands the number of people in this city who would be able to pick me out of a crowd like that and none of them that I had any real interest in seeing would be stalking me. I debated calling to a pair of men in the Fortemps colors a few stalls away but then thought better of it. There was no sense of danger to it, just that familiar urge to _go, investigate…_

A quick survey of the area revealed no conspicuous individuals, not that that I had been expecting anything of the sort, but I continued to glance around as I moved from stall to stall. By the time I reached the retainer services at the east end of the market, I had a likely suspect. A lone Temple Knight who had been moving slowly across the market, sometimes ahead of me, sometimes behind, but always within seeing distance.

As I expected, the knight continued to follow me after I left the Crozier, heading up the stairs in the direction of the Last Vigil. I scaled the angled walkways, silently cursing the architects all the while—honestly, these Ishgardians may be excellent stonemasons but their ancestral architects were _shit_ —and my second shadow followed at a respectable distance. Fortemps manor wasn’t far; if I continued on I would easily be visible by the soldiers standing guard around it, but I had a funny feeling that that my pursuer did not want to be overheard.  
  
So, instead of veering left towards the manor, I chose a section of the balustrade just out of the lamplight and rested my arms on it. _Invitation sent._

Inhaling deeply, I rested my arms on the smooth stone and looked out. Below swirled fog or clouds, I couldn’t quite tell, concealing the base of the city and even some of its lowermost reaches. Beyond loomed the Gates of Judgement, the mountains of Coerthas, and a sky filled with more glittering stars than one could ever hope to count. Beautiful, all of it, and so close to ruin. I wondered what it was like to live here, day in and day out, and know that at any moment the sky could be filled with dragons here to murder me.

The soft clanking of metal armor informed me that my pursuer drew near. _Invitation accepted._

I gave him a brief, acknowledging glance then looked back to the mountains. “Evening, Ser,” I greeted as he drew close.

“Good evening, madam,” the knight replied, male, and not wholly unfamiliar. He stepped up to the balustrade and placed one hand on the stone and raised the other. I looked up him, curious, and the Temple Knight lifted his helm for but a moment, just long enough for me to recognize the face within.

“You’re—”

“Just so,” Ser Zephirin of the Heavens’ Ward replied curtly and lowered his helm. “Pray forgive my behavior and any alarm I may have caused you.”

I shook my head. “It’s cold, I’m tired, and you’ve been stalking me in disguise. Why?”

If he was taken aback by my abruptness, he did not show it. “I shall be brief then. I have a question for you, Warrior of Light, and a request.”

“Oh yeah?” I looked out into the distance and folded my arms on the bannister. “And what makes you think I want to help you?”

“Naught, truly, but that there is no other I can ask.”

I hummed to myself, inhaled deeply…then exhaled. “Go on then.”

“What do you know of the sway a primal has on a man’s soul? Tempering, I believe it is called in the Common tongue.”

My head whipped around. “Has someone been tempered?”

Ser Zephirin’s expression was completely hidden behind his visor. “I cannot answer that.”

I scoffed at him. “You can’t come to me for help then refuse to talk. If that sky whale is out tempering your knights then people need to—”

“I cannot explain beyond that my question is for the good of my people.” Ser Zephirin interjected. “Please, tell me what you know of Tempering.”

Shaking my head, I turned back to the balustrade. “Once you’re Tempered, it’s over,” I replied after a moment. “I don’t know how it’s done but the primal…infects you with…its essence, I guess, and it twists and corrupts everything until you’re a slave to its will. Forever. You want my advice?” I looked up at him. “Kill them. There’s nothing you can do for them and if their primal wills it, they will see you dead or tempered in turn. Doesn’t matter who it is or how many there are. You gotta kill ‘em.”

Ser Zephirin was quiet for a long moment after and I sighed. Someone was going to have to deal with that flying menace and I had a horrible feeling that that someone was going to be me, eventually. Assuming Nidhogg didn’t kill us all first. Priorities.

 “And how does one defend themselves from Tempering?” the knight murmured.

“You can’t.”

“You do, or so I have heard.”

“I have a power called the Echo. It’s the only thing that can protect someone from primal influence. And it’s not something you can just _get_ , you’re either born destined to have it or you’re not and most people are not.”

“I see.” Zephirin replied, sounding…resigned. “Thank you, Warrior of Light, for your candor. I apologize for having kept you in the cold.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I was missing something big, that much was plain. Best case scenario, someone he cared for had been Tempered, I’d say. Worst case…the Archbishop was taking desperate measures and while I firmly believed that no one with eyebrows like his could possibly be a good person, I didn’t see him as the sort to try and combat his enemies with a primal. Not unless he thought he was summoning _Halone_ …in which case we were probably fucked.

And by ‘we’ I meant me. Because I was good, I was very good, but I wasn’t sure I could take on a primal with an entire nation fueling her.

“And now for my request,” Zephirin went on. “Tell no one we have spoken. I was never here.”

That wasn’t too surprising of a request. I mean, I wasn’t going to honor it, of course—anything primal-related was Need to Know for Scions—but he didn’t need to know that. I nodded.

Ser Zephirin dipped his head then left without another word. I watched him go for a few moments, contemplating what I had learned and what I hadn’t, until a gust of wind blew straight through me and I shivered. Right. Indoors first, then musing. With Alphinaud and Tataru, definitely.

(It wouldn’t be until much, much later that I realized I should never have let Ser Zephirin walk away.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a theory that I was introduced to about half a year ago, which I initially dismissed as absurd, but then when I investigated it further, I realized was likely 100% canon. Zephirin was actually a good dude...and he spent most of Heavensward _tempered_. Some of the Heavens Ward, like Grinnaux, were tempered very early on into obedience, and that is canon. Others, like Zephirin, were left in their right minds for a while longer, with all eventually becoming tempered by their flight from Ishgard.
> 
> It's also quite possible that we actually _see_ the moment where Zephirin becomes tempered, in the quest "Alphinaud's Way", after he displays hesitation to Thordan's plans for the Ascians. And before that, he was simply going along with Thordan's plan so as to avoid being tempered like Ser Grinnaux. Personally, I like this idea quite a lot, because it gives a lot of depth to his character, which he was sorely lacking. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also hey be sure to leave kudos n stuff. They (and comments) fuel me.


	4. The Scion's Segue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” I murmured, “I think we need to talk.”

Alphinaud hadn’t been the same since I’d slammed the door in his face. He’d deserved it and at the time it was the only thing I could think to do. I knew he was only doing what he thought to be best but, gods damned him, one would think he’d learned his lesson after the Braves! But, no, that wasn’t fair. Circumstances were completely different and…truthfully, he had the right of it, loathe as I was to admit it.

In public he spoke no differently than to me than normal (mostly) but when it was just us, he could scarcely meet my eyes. Not that we’d interacted much beyond necessity. I busied myself with the brothers’ and anything else I could find to occupy my time and Alphinaud did his own things. I was in no hurry to hash things out with him nor was he in a hurry to face me and so we lingered.

I suppose I hadn’t helped matters by basically leaving him to fend for himself as we crossed the Steps of Faith. The winds were so fierce that Haurchefant had scooped Tataru into one arm as if she were a babe and taken hold of one of mine with his other, whilst my other hand gripped Bobby’s reins, and Alphinaud had been left to cling to the backs of our coats.

But later I’d fought to free him from the ridiculous accusations of heresy—of course I had! For all his faults, he was yet my friend and a Scion. That had not stopped him from stammering his thanks with a look of utter insecurity.

As we prepared to set off to Dravania, I gave him Rydia to ride. She was a bit too big for a rider of his size, but it would have to do, unless he wanted to ride on that monster of a chocobo that Estinien was taking along. He did not.

I’d taken her out a few times already to see how she moved and how well we would work together. There was a noticeable power in her stride that Bobby simply didn’t have, which probably had something to with the sheer amount of muscle she had underneath her soft feathers. And those talons hers could gore someone to death on accident. She had a keen sense for wind aspected aether and even though the little compass I’d been given could give me a general direction, Rydia deserved all the credit for finding them.

I’d also noticed that she tended to, ah, squat when I was otherwise occupied. Sets of squats, actually. Ten at a time. I’d counted.

I decided to let Alphinaud find that out for himself.

As we set out to the West to search for Iceheart, Alphinaud kept close to me like a little chick. I was safe, familiar, while Estinien was a wild card if there ever was one and that wasn’t even taking into account his stunt a few months back with the Eye. It wasn’t awkward like I thought it might be, at least not to me, but from the way Alphinaud reacted when I caught his eye, it was likely he firmly disagreed.

I tried to ease some of the tension between us my complimenting him on his new traveling clothes. Tataru had done a fine job on them—I think she may have found her calling. Before Dragonhead, he’d worn nothing that he had not brought with him from Sharlayan. His sister, too, in the times we’d worked together. In Ishgard he had worn the suits provided to them but they had made him seem more boy playing at being a man, especially when in the same room as Edmont or Artoirel.

He looked more…refined now. Grown up. Himself. r

Of course, when I told him that he turned as red as a tomato and barely managed to stammer out a reply. Estinien cackled mercilessly.

After Ysayle joined our company, Alphinaud and I had to ride together. Apparently, none of us had stopped to consider that Ysayle might not have a chocobo available to her and so we were left with four people and three single-rider chocobos. She refused to ride with Estinien and he with her and I wasn’t about to let her ride with Alphinaud, truce or no truce, so I gave her Bobby to ride and rode on Rydia. She was big enough for both of us, thankfully, and Bobby took a shine to Ysayle right away, so we were able to proceed with minimal fuss.

Except Alphinaud and I had to deal with being literally smooshed together when we’d barely spoken in weeks. Talk about awkward. The first ten minutes or so we spent in utter silence with Alphinaud sitting ramrod straight in front of me. Then I’d had enough.

“So,” I murmured, “I think we need to talk.”

“I agree,” he replied in the same manner. “I… I do not regret my course of action. What I said to Haurchefant was true. We cannot be tied to any one nation, you most of all, and were you to be…ah…courting him…it could cause complications for us with Ishgard and the rest of Eorzea.”

I frowned, wishing I could see his face. “Because he’s a lord’s son or because he’s a bastard?”

“Both. Our position is tenuous and will likely continue to remain so for the foreseeable future and, quite honestly, we cannot afford for you to jeopardize what little we have.”

I scoffed. “You’re such a child.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”

“Awful easy to tell someone what to do when you can’t empathise, isn’t it?”

Alphinaud had nothing to say to that and I felt rather than heard him sigh. “I am sorry, Rain. I did not want to meddle in your…relationship, as it were, I only hoped to spare you both from further pain in the future.”

“And you thought, what? It wouldn’t hurt now?”

“No, I…I just thought it might be easier on the both of you. I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “I know you are. You weren’t wrong, either, which is what makes it so damn unbearable.”

Alphinaud was quiet for a few moments. “Did you tell him where we’re going?”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. I’d thought about it. I’d thought long and hard about it. I’d wanted to. I would’ve. But he would’ve wanted to come, too, and it would’ve only been painful for him to have to remain behind yet again. It was just as well for, like Ser Aymeric, he stood to lose too much should the wrong ears catch wind of our plans. And I knew I couldn’t face him again so soon.

Ahead of us loomed a forest untouched by snow and, beyond it, another range of mountains which stretched further than our eyes could see. Dravania.

…I’d wanted to explore it with him, one day.

“No.”

Alphinaud nodded. “That was…probably for the best.”

“I know.”

“And if we succeed, you’ll be saving his life.”

“That’s why I’m doing this,” I admitted. “At least then I’ll know he’s alright.”

“And…are we? Alright?”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, considering my words carefully. “Alphinaud. I respect you and I thought you respected me. Maybe you do. So next time you get it into your head that my heart is putting us all at risk—” I leaned forward to hiss in his ear “—have the stones to say it to my face.”

I saw his jaw clench.

Neither of us spoke for a long time after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He...tried?


	5. The Eye's Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But, of course, it all makes sense now! The little rumors from Dragonhead are true: the Warrior of Light and the Fortemps’ bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Selaine Vairemont and everyone else from HAURCHEFANT IS BEST BOI Suzaku farm~ Y'all's some real ones.
> 
>  
> 
> Amememigthywarrior [drew this](https://amememightywarrior.tumblr.com/post/178591160142/) after I mentioned Rydia squatting last chapter. Check it out xD

Alphinaud retired to his tent for the night and out came the alcohol.

It had become a nightly thing on this little quest of ours. Alphinaud goes to bed early ( _like the good little student he is_ , I think but never say) and Estinien waits just long enough to make sure that the boy isn’t likely to come back out again, then busts out the booze. The Ishgardian fare ran out the night after Ysayle and I fought Ravana and Estinien had apparently consumed the last of the bottles he’d bartered for in Tailfeather while we were off fetching the Elder Seedseer. The moogles had witnessed this and _apparently_ those weird things they called nuts could be fermented….

I wasn’t much of a drinker myself but Estinien mellowed the hell out when he got alcohol into his system. Once I realized, I accepted the nightly ritual with gusto. He actually let Ysayle sit near him after a few glasses.

Three adults, a moogle that may or may not have actually been sleeping, and two bottles of kupo nut wine. Ysayle passed out the glasses without a word and Estinien began pouring.

"Cheers," I muttered and took a drink. From the corner of my eye, I saw Estinien knock back half the damn thing at once. The initial taste was sweet, not fruity like I’d expected, followed by a kick so strong that I exhaled through my nose and barely held back a cough.

By the gods, what the hell were these little furry bastards playing at?! Either they’ve got a much higher tolerance to alcohol than Spoken do or they liked to get drunk off their arses. Would never have guessed. Oh, hell, did the Twelveswood moogles have booze like this? If they did, they’ve been holding out on everyone. And it would explain…quite a lot actually….

Estinien’s eye twitched and he gave the contents of his glass a scrutinizing look.

Ysayle took note of both our reactions and sipped gingerly at her glass. Her eyebrows shot towards her hairline and she cleared her throat. “Oh my.”

“Too strong for you, Lady Iceheart?” Estinien asked with a bit of bite in his tone.

She harrumphed, “Not in the least.” And took another, larger, sip, after which she touched her fingers to her lip and wiped away some excess liquid. Estinien smirked behind his glass.

The second round of drinks was poured but conversation did not come. Our journey was nearly at its end and everything hinged on the morrow. If we failed...well, then, we would kill Nidhogg…or die trying. But if we succeeded with Hraesvelgr… _oh_ …if we _succeeded_ ….

The prospect of peace was there. Small, faint, but true and glimmering….  
  
If I could but see Haurchefant safe from the dragons once and for all, then I could…I could move on in peace. Knowing he was safe, and his people were free from my efforts…I could live with that. It could be enough. It would be enough.

“So,” Estinien drawled as the fourth round was poured. I was feeling pleasantly warm by then and figured this would have to be my last. Couldn’t very well appeal to Hraesvelgr while hungover. “I have been meaning to ask. What happened between you and the boy?”

I made a face. “What?”

“You and Alphinaud.”

Ysayle’s eyes flipped wide and she jerked oddly, lowering her glass from her mouth. “Beg pardon?!”

I, on the other hand, glared sourly at the dragoon. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d noticed. Though the tension between Alphinaud and I had lessened greatly since I had fought Ravana, we weren’t quite _okay_ yet, but we would be. It’d been nearly two weeks since we’d left Ishgard and, to be honest, I hardly recognized him. He was opening up, changing, learning to see past the end of his own nose, as it were. I was almost proud of him.

Hell, if I’d known a few weeks on the road would have such a profound effect on him, I’d have hauled him off moons ago.

“Relax, my lady, we are not all as burdened with deviant tendencies as you.” Estinien sneered.

Ysayle flushed, mumbled something unintelligible, and took another drink. I realized where her mind must have gone and wrinkle my nose.

“Ew, no! He’s like a little brother! An…annoying…nosy…stuck up little brother.” I frowned. “But a brother.”

“Oh, thank the heavens,” Ysayle muttered into her cup.

Estinien tisked at her then returned his attention to me. “You two have been acting different since we left the bug men. I am sure even Ysayle has noticed.”

“Well…”

I shook my head. “Nothing happened. It’s just…” I sighed. “We had a…a problem, before we came to Ishgard. He meddled in my personal life and I suppose it’s becoming easier to forgive him.”

“Aaaaaah,” Estinien drawled and took another swig from his cup. Reaching for the bottle once more, he said, “That explains a lot. You took so long to return from slaying that primal that Alphinaud grew rather frantic. He seemed convinced that the commander of Dragonhead was going to have his head for sending you off to fight. But, of course, it all makes sense now! The little rumors from Dragonhead are true: the Warrior of Light and the Fortemps’ bastard.”

My hand clenched around my glass and I glowered at Estinien from the corner of my eye. Ysayle made a soft sound of surprise and lowered her glass. Estinien set the bottle aside and lifted his glass, smirking at me all the while.

“Don’t,” I warned through gritted teeth, “call him that.”

“Struck a nerve, did I? You ought to get used to it. That’s how all of Ishgard knows him.”

“I remember that,” Ysayle mused, “I was still a little girl when news of the scandal broke.” Her words piqued my curiosity, but I tried to not let it show. I knew next to nothing of Haurchefant’s early life and most of which I did was unpleasant, but a scandal? “Most of the gossip centered around Lord Edmont’s sins, of course, so I never really heard anything about the child himself, other than that he existed.” She paused, cocking her head to the side, then added, “And that he looked a little like me.”  
  
I looked her up and down once and nodded.

“Irrelevant,” Estinien said with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Is it true? You and the Greystone?”

For a brief moment, I considered chucking my glass at his face, but that would just lead to an all-out brawl and this was hardly the place. At best we’d wake some local beast, and Alphinaud.

“What do you care?” I muttered instead with a pointed frown and took another drink.

“Is that wise?” Ysayle asked, cocking her head to the side. “Ishgardians aren’t known for their love of outsiders.”

I shook my head firmly. “There’s nothing happening.”

“I can see through this helmet quite clearly, my lady, and I beg to differ,” Estinien retorted. “The way you strode into the Tribunal hall, t’was a sight to behold indeed, but he looked at you as if you were the Fury herself. And after, that stunt with the chocobo—”  
  
“Chocobo?” Ysayle asked with interest.

“The black one she and Alphinaud ride, the bastard gave it to her as a gift after her victory before the Tribunal.”

“Oh my.” Yasayle took another sip of wine then nodded. “Then I must agree with the dragoon. Such a fine bird surely—”

“Butt out,” I snapped, glowering at them both. Ysayle blinked in surprise.

“Touched another nerve, have we?” Estinien laughed, mocking. “Not exactly helping your case.”

“There is no case!” I snapped, slamming my cup against the ground, and got to my feet. I didn’t have to take this. I didn’t need them dredging the feelings I’d been trying to bury back to the surface for their amusement. “Both of you piss off.”

“Wait.”

I glared at the dragoon across the fire. He met my gaze, or at least I think he did, and set his glass down. “Do not mistake mine intent for that of a gossiping hen. Hearken to my words, for though our bonds to the Eye greatly differ, you are still an Azure Dragoon.”

Ysayle choked on her drink, hand flying through her mouth to catch the wine as it escaped her lips, and her pale eyes widened with pure shock.

“It has been some time since I last sensed you, which I take to mean that it has been some time since you last communed with the soul stone which was bequeathed to you.”

I nodded, brow furrowing. As a child in my homeland, I was taught to wield a staff as a weapon—my raw talent for fighting had been apparent, even then, though no one knew who or what I would become—and when I came to Eorzea, I chose to enroll in the guild which most closely resembled the style of fighting I was used to. Though fighting with the lance took some getting used to, I picked up the art with relative ease. Yet I wasn’t quite as taken with the lance as I had been with the staff, the combat style of a lancer being more offensive than the defensive style I had learned back home. Then I fell in with the rogue’s guild and, after, the shinobi, and I found myself relishing the subtle ferocity, the accuracy, the speed and fluidity. It suited me more than the lance ever had.

“Aye,” Estinien went on, “nor did you bond with the Eye as I have. I would know if you had, for I knew the moment you first connected with it. As did Nidhogg. Even when he slumbers, Nidhogg always knows when another comes into possession of his Eye and he hates us perhaps more than the rest. Just as I can sense him, his mind, his emotions, so, too, can he sense mine. Should you commune with your soul stone once more, have care with your thoughts and feelings as you do, for they may very well become known to him.”

I shook my head slowly. “What are you saying?”  
  
“Truly, I do not care if you are in a relationship with Lord Haurchefant, but if you care for him even half as much as he evidently cares for you, then you would be wise to exercise caution. You must not allow Nidhogg to know where your heart lies, what drives you, beyond that which drives all Azure Dragoons, for you can be certain that he will seek to destroy it. If he were to scry even a name from you, that which it belongs to may very well be marked for death.”

My heart leaped into my throat and after a few moments of pure, unadulterated horror— _no no no no no that couldn’t happen not to him not because of **me** —_I had half a mind to fetch the soul of the dragoon from my belongings and hurl it over the edge of the island. Then I realized how illogical that was, not to mention wasteful, and Ser Alberic would probably have my head for it. I wasn’t about to go tearing off to my saddlebag in a fit of panic but there was no way in any of the hells that I was keeping that stone now. First chance I got, it was going back to Ser Alberic, regardless of the success of our parley. Like _hell_ I was going to let _another_ dragon stalk me.

“There is…perhaps a chance that you need not fear,” Ysayle reminded me though her words offered little comfort, for she had spouted the futility of our mission from the first.

I shook my head. “Thank you, Estinien.”

Estinien dipped his head once, took another drink, and said nothing more. Ysayle watched me with concern and something a bit like pity. Barely restraining a snort, I marched in the direction of my tent. I had no need or want of her pity. I had enough of it from myself already, thank you very much.

I crawled into my tent and immediately pulled my shoes off, tossing them aside, then my gloves, my belts, and dropped down onto my bedroll with a heavy sigh. I could still feel the effects of the wine, but my mind was painfully sharp. I thought this time on the road, the new lands, the mission, the _distance_ , would help me to…move on, I guess. But that was the first time I’d actually said it out loud.

_There is nothing between us. There never will be._

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Gods above. Long have I worried for Haurchefant’s safety in the war but to think I may have unknowingly caused Haurchefant to be singled out by _fucking_ _Nidhogg_ ….

I felt the aether shift in a way which was familiar, despite how infrequently it occurred, and then a light weight settled onto the bed roll beside me. I opened my eyes to see Midgardsormr sitting beside me, watching me with those dark, intelligent eyes that completely belied the nonthreatening, dare I say cute, form which he resided in.

“ _Thou art concerned for thy beloved, mortal,_ ” he intoned.

“Wouldn’t you be?” I asked then immediately realized how stupid that was. There was no way he could empathize.

 _“Perhaps,_ ” he mused nevertheless. _“Long hath my son been consumed by his hatred and desire for revenge. Long hath he despised those who dared wield his eye above all others. Take heart, then, you are not counted among that number.”_

“I am an Azure Dragoon, though, even if I don’t really…do anything about it.”

_“Indeed. Then answer me this: where doth my son’s attention lie at this moment?”_

I wrinkle my nose. “How should I know?”

 _“And it is for that reason that thou need not fear he will learn of thy beloved. Even should thou take up the lance and—soul stone, was it called?”_ The little dragon cocked his head to the side uncertainly and I nearly smiled. Ancient and wise though he may be, there were things that of which even he was ignorant. “ _Thou hast not held the Eye for any length of time, nor have thee sought to use its power, or even commune with it. My son may yet know of thine existence but there exists no link between ye which he could exploit.”_

“So—so Haurchefant’s safe?” I asked, feeling hope and relief swell within me in equal measure.

_“From the threat of being beloved by an Azure Dragoon, yes.”_

Exhaling in relief, my eyes slipped shut and I nodded once.

 _“Though the Dragoon was right to warn you.”_ Midgardsormr added. _“For should thou ever attempt to draw on the power of the stolen eye, thou **wilst** give my son access to thy mind and heart. Have care.” _

I shook my head. “I don’t want that power.”

The Father of Dragons stared at me for a long moment. _“And if I told thee that possessing the Eye would return to thee a simulacrum of that which I have denied?”_

“Even then,” I replied at once, knowing full well that it was a test. Not that my answer would have changed anyway. “I won’t put him at risk.”

_“Even if the power of the Eye could save him from the doom which now lingers over them all?”_

I shook my head. “I’ll save them, one way or another, but not with the Eye. Maybe Estinien but not me.”

_“We shall see in time.”_

“I won’t!” I insisted through clenched teeth. “Even if the power of the Eye wasn’t a curse, I don’t want it!”

He was quiet again and, as usual, his face was completely unreadable, though his black eyes seemed to glint even in the dim light. _“We shall see in time,_ ” he repeated once more and then disappeared in a swirl of aether and light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> owo


	6. The Lover's Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let her go, let her go, just let her go…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are then ;)
> 
> Drinking game: take shots every time Haurchefant is referred to as "my lord". That oughta prep you suitably for the second half of the chapter.

_Let her go…_

It seemed he was always telling himself that these days.

_Let her go…_

He’d lost count of how many times.

_Let her go, let her go…_

Every time she smiled genuinely, every time she spoke, every time her face hardened with determination, every time she glanced at him, every time she fought. Every time she came towards him and every time she walked away.

_Let her go, let her go, just let her go…_

It was neither helping nor working. Whenever the logical part of him whispered to let her go, something in him screeched in defiance. An angry, selfish, little dragon which hissed and shrieked and dug its talons in deeper every time, refusing to give in. He wanted her, body and heart, and he could chant his mantra until he was blue in the face and it still wouldn’t change.

_You fool, you have to let her go…_

_I don’t want to_.

And therein was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? He did not want to let her go. After a life of always being second best, judged, ridiculed, even hated for the mere circumstances of his birth, to have found one who not only cared for him as he cared for her, but also vehemently condemned the world’s treatment of him was nothing short of a miracle. How could he let that go?

Part of him wanted to be furious at Alphinaud but the boy had done nothing wrong, nor had any of his statements been incorrect. If Rain were with him as anything more than a friend, there would inevitably be backlash or conflict from some corner. As long as the realm remained divided in its interests, it was unwise for Rain to have loyalty to any one nation rather than the realm itself. He had faith that the Scions would see themselves restored to their former power and prominence and when that time came he would not, could not, be the cause for further strife.

And as it was, she had far too much on her plate, anyway, to be tied to the likes of himself. Primals, Garleans, those Ascian fellows, and what have you, all things he could provide naught but prayer for. He could not stand at her side in the truly difficult battles, could not venture out with her on her travels, could not even set aside time to give her a tour of Ishgard. Nay, she was better off without him.

_Let her go, you selfish fool…_

For all his annoyance at his younger brother for having once again allowed his arrogance and foolishness get the better of him, he could not help but be grateful for the opportunity to see Rain again, to fight alongside her once more. But a week had passed since she had left Dragonhead, yet he felt the delight of a reunion after many moons.

_Fool, fool, fool…_

Bequeathing Rydia to her had been a rather impulsive decision on his part, not at all suited to the distance they were meant to be keeping from each other, but he liked the idea of them together. Liked knowing she would have something of him for many years to come and a faithful companion to fight alongside her, no less.

_You wish it were you instead._

Of course he did. Of course…

He was quite shocked to learn of her departure to the West. She had not said a word to him, nor bothered to even pen him a letter to let him she would be leaving Ishgard for lands long held by their foe. Not that he had been entitled to such things, of course, and what little offense he felt he managed to squash almost at once, though the disappointment he felt at having traveled all the way to the manor for naught lingered.

He’d heard the rumors from the Holy See. The Azure Dragoon and the Warrior of Light off to face the dreadwyrm himself in a bid to save Ishgard from destruction. He could only hope and pray, then.

She had taken both Bobby and Rydia with her, he learned when he paid a visit to the family stables, and the thought pleased him greatly. Mayhap she was even learning to fly with her, if their mission allowed time for such things. He recalled the way she had stuck to the sides of the airship from the Sea of Clouds, the way she had watched the world go by, the wind in her hair, the smile on her face…

The ache in his heart as he realized again that she could never be his.

_Let her go. ‘Tis the only way you will ever know peace._

But what did he, an Ishgardian, know of peace?

* * *

 

Haurchefant had just sat down to remove his boots when someone knocked on his door. Groaning to himself, he rose from the chair by the fire and crossed the room. He opened the door and was greeted by young Austenne, who, if Haurchefant recalled correctly, ought to be watching the aetheryte.

“Begging your pardon, my lord, but a guest awaits you in the intercessory.”

“A guest?” Haurchefant repeated. Gods damn it. He had just removed his armor, too. “I was not aware we had a guest arriving tonight.”

“Ah, no, sir, but I believe it’s urgent.”

He barely held back a sigh. “How urgent?”

“Urgent enough that they did not send word, my lord,” Austenne replied, straight-faced. “I suggest you make haste.”

“Oh, do you?” Haurchefant narrowed his eyes. And a look which could best be described as ‘ _oh, shit_ ’ flashed across the younger man’s face. “I warn you now, if this some manner of ploy to get me involved in another late-night snowball war, I am not in the mood for—”

“Nay, my lord! As I said, a guest awaits you in the intercessory.”

He sighed. “Who is it?”

“I…uh….er…”

“You are not very good at lying, are you?”

“No, my lord.”

Haurchefant hummed in agreement and started to shut the door.

“It’s the Warrior of Light!” Austenne cried quickly.

Haurchefant froze. Emotion coursed through him and he jerked the door back open. “She is here?”

Austenne nodded, looking ready to kick himself. “I was hoping it to be a surprise but yes, my lord, she awaits you in the intercessory. B-but she did say she didn’t have long so it—it is very urgent, my lord. Sorry.”

Elation, dread, anticipation, and relief coursed through him. He thanked the lad and pushed past him without even bothering to grab his coat. He felt lighter than air and a thousand malms away as he hurried out of the building and across camp, nearly tripping over his own legs in the snow. He didn’t care who saw and what would surely be said come the morrow.

He yanked the door open with too much force, eyes seeking, finding her kneeling by the budding fire, and another wave of elation swooped through him, followed by relief, _and…_ and _…_. He stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him, and Rain rose to her feet. She was wearing a strange outfit made of dark leather and darker furs and her hair was braided in a way she had never done before and she…she…

“You’re home…” the words rushed out of him, along with most of the air in his lungs, and he all but flew across the room. She took a few steps forward to meet him and he swept her into a hug, lifting her feet clean off the floor. A new kind of relief flooded through him, starting from his middle and flowing out through his limbs, making them feel heavy and his whole body warm. He felt right again. Whole. Nothing mattered beyond this room, not their peoples, not their duties, not the war. The last month had never happened. It was just them, this, and the warm crackling of the fire.

A happy little noise escaped her as she buried her face in his shoulder and he hummed softly in return.

Haurchefant set her down after a few moments, sliding his hands along her arms to her wrists as he withdrew, and he shook his head at her. “I have been so worried. You left with nary a word and no one at the manor could tell me where you were bound or why!”  He wasn’t mad, he wasn’t, but he’d spent over a fortnight hoping and praying she was well and safe. He hadn’t known how much longer he could stand it.

Rain ducked her head. “I’m sorry. At the time I thought it best that I didn’t but…I’m so sorry to have worried you.”

He shook his head again and slipped his hands into hers. “I am simply glad that you are safe. I heard rumors that you and the Azure Dragoon went to face Nidhogg…”

She hesitated for a moment then shook her head. “No, we didn’t. That was just the cover story.”

“Cover story?” he repeated, surprised. What could they have been after with such a thing as their _cover_? But, no, it was not his place to ask. She had chosen to keep it from all, including him, and he had no right to demand answers. Instead, he squeezed her hand and murmured, “Won’t you look at me?”

Rain sighed and then, finally, lifted her gaze to his. Oh, she looked so tired, and there were healing cuts on her face that had not been there when he’d seen her last.

“You poor thing, when did you last have a good night’s rest?”

“The day before last,” she admitted. “And it’ll be another day before I can again. We leave within the hour.”

“Surely you can spare but a few hours for rest?” Haurchefant asked. She shook her head.

“We are bound now for the Aery.”

The Aery. Every child of Ishgard knew that name, knew to hate it and fear it with equal measure. Only the few bravest (and stupidest) of souls ever dared seek it out and even fewer still had returned to tell the tale. It was said to lie in the heart of Dravania, high above the peak of Sohm Al, in a place where the winds and the aether could go from peaceful to violent on a whim and even men not of Ishgard dared not fly. Nidhogg’s lair.

And the only reason she and the Azure Dragoon would have for going there was to… They must have found it and returned to Ishgard to gather their bearings and prepare for…for…

His heart began to race in his chest at the thought of Rain facing down the dreadwyrm himself. Unlike the primals whose every aspect were a mystery, Nidhogg was known to him. Haurchefant had seen the beast with his own eyes and _knew_ that he was massive, powerful, immortal, and surely more than anything she had faced thus far, even primals.

Rain’s eyes searched his face, concern writ across her features, and Haurchefant struggled to rein his emotions in. Him panicking would do nothing to help her now. He squeezed her hands tightly. “I see you have once again chosen the most perilous path.”

“T’is the only path.”

He shook his head. “Not for you.” Did she not see? 

“But if I don’t take it then he’ll come with his horde and destroy everything, but he’ll leave just enough left for you to rebuild so he can do it again and again and again. Even if you survive, it’s _never_ gonna end, ‘cos it’s not a war and it never was.” It was her turn to squeeze his hands. “I’ve seen…I’ve heard….”

“I do not understand. What do you mean it is not a war?”

She gritted her teeth. “It’s punishment for what your ancestors did to Nidhogg…and his sister.”

Haurchefant pulled his hands from hers, uncertainty and confusion rising within him. She was speaking like a heretic now. He had known for some time now that she was sympathetic to them as people, if not to their cause, but to hear her acquiescing to their beliefs aloud was unsettling. “What do you mean? …What did you see?”

“I learned what started all of this. What _really_ happened.” She exhaled in a huff and folded her arms. “Nidhogg has been punishing your people for a thousand years and he will do it a thousand more if he can, because nothing, _nothing_ , we do or say will ever be enough, and you’re going to die for the crimes of stupid, selfish men a thousand years ago unless I put an end to it!”

Her eyes sparked and her face was contorted with fury, but the way her hair framed her face, silhouetted by the firelight…she was so beautiful in that moment that Haurchefant didn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m going to kill him,” she vowed. “For you.”

Haurchefant shook his head slowly. “Not for me,” he murmured. “For Ishgard.”

“ _Ishgard_ was built and sustained on lies and blood for a thousand years,” she retorted vehemently. “ _Ishgard_ doesn’t deserve anything else from me. But you…I… I would see you safe.” She ducked her head and her hair fell forward, nearly hiding her face in its entirety. “I want to know that you’ll be alright without me, that you’ll have a chance to be happy…”

He shook his head again, struggling to put words to the jumble of thoughts and emotions swirling through him.  “Oh, my dear,” he breathed, touched beyond words, and not even realizing what he’d said until her eyes widened and lips parted in surprise.

Rain stepped closer to him and leaned her head into his chest, right over his heart, He wrapped his arms around her at once, pulling her close and ducking his face into her hair, wishing more than anything that his body alone could protect her. To have her with him once more, _home, safe,_ only to learn that she was leaving ( _him_ ) in a matter of minutes to fight the monster which had plagued his people for so long—it was all too much.

He didn’t deserve her. He never had. He never would—could—

“You should not have wasted time coming here,” he murmured.

“I wanted to see you before I left…just in case,” she replied in the same manner, the fingers of her left hand drifting back and forth on his chest while her right clutched at his back, and Haurchefant held her tighter.

“If there is anyone in this world who can face Nidhogg, t’is you. You are the strongest woman—nay the strongest person I know. I have the utmost faith in you. I always have.”

He felt her shudder and cradled the back of her head with his hand. He was so afraid. He didn’t know how he was going to see her off, knowing where she was bound. Strange how different it was than when he sent his most trusted knights off to battle, but, then, he did not love them as he—

 _Let her go, let her go,_ his mind whispered treacherously. And for the first time in weeks, since he had begun that painful mantra of his, his entire being protested at once, fervently:

**_No._ **

“Please, come home to me,” the words tumbled out of his lips and he felt a weight settle in his heart. To hells with reason, to hells with the city-states, and to hells with Alphinaud’s logic. It was stupid, foolish, irrational, but this woman was prepared to slay Nidhogg in his name and he would never find another like her as long as he lived, who loved him as he loved her, and he was not going to give her up. “Please, we—we will figure things out, just promise you will come home to me.”

Rain turned her head the slightest bit and the hope in her voice hurt almost as much as it had to break her heart. “Things?”

And, in answer, he pressed a kiss to her temple, stroking the back of her head with his hand. “Yes, my dear Rain. …Vrochí.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining, her hair haloed and glowing red in the firelight, and slid her hand up to his cheek. “I promise.” Then she kissed him.

Haurchefant hesitated for but a second (a second too long) then he was returning the kiss as he wished he would have a month ago, when he thought it would be his only chance but knew he couldn’t let it go too far or he’d never be able to let her go. Well, he’d failed at that, but now he was glad for their first kiss, because without it he would not truly be able to appreciate the one they shared now. Their lips moving together, sliding apart only to return, gentle yet firm, and sure. Her hand on his face, sliding into his hair. His hands on her shoulders, her back, lifting her off her feet once more so she could wrap her arms around his shoulders. Warm and heady, soft, sweet, tender where the other had been desperate. Everything he thought he’d never have with her.

Their first had been a farewell to could have been.

Their second was a hello, a promise of more to come, of a future awaiting them, they had but only to reach for it.

And, by the gods, would he reach for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (◡‿◡✿) 
> 
> Sit tight everyone, the next fic will be along shortly. You either know what I'm planning or you don't but either way, you're in for a treat. Remember to subscribe to the series itself for updates and to go back and re-read the rest in the series by some chance that you made it...this far...without doing that.
> 
> I'm wintermoth over on tumblr as well. Feel free to come along and yell at me about Haurchefant things or FFXIV in general. ;)


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